


Tea With Patsy

by Think_Busby_Think



Series: Tea [9]
Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 21:07:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10952751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Think_Busby_Think/pseuds/Think_Busby_Think
Summary: Mr and Mrs Busby have arranged afternoon tea after Patsy's return from Hong Kong





	Tea With Patsy

**Author's Note:**

> Several people asked me to write a Tea fic set after Patsy's return from Hong Kong so this has been rolling around my head for a while.
> 
> I wrote it before the news broke about S7 of Call the Midwife and was going to wait and post it after I'd written part 2 of Anniversary Tea (which is next on the list) but I wanted to put some fic out now. 
> 
> Terribly gutted by them not being in it. I will keep the fic going for as long as I am inspired (and I still have plenty of ideas!)

Mr and Mrs Busby both stood up as Patsy and Delia entered the Tea Room. Enid grasped her husband's hand as she took in Patsy's demeanour. She had seen enough of her now to know a mask when she saw one. Enid saw past it easily and recognised that the young woman was still grief-stricken.

She hadn't expected Patsy to come today. Mrs Busby had arranged a pre Christmas tea with her daughter knowing that Delia would be busy this year and unable to get home for the festivities. Actually that wasn't strictly true. Enid had been worried for her, ever since Patsy's departure to Hong Kong. At first, a small part of her had secretly hoped that Patsy would be drawn back into her old life and the lifestyle she had abandoned. But Delia's letters home and occasional telephone calls had done nothing to reassure Enid or her husband that she was faring well.

As the year drew on, and with no sign of Patsy's return, Mrs Busby could sense the change in her daughter. The separation was devastating for Delia, and she had no one to confide in. No one she could trust.

Enid could hardly blame Delia for not even considering trusting her. After Delia's accident, she had deliberately not posted letters to Patsy, in the hope that Delia would drop her intentions of returning to London. At the time, Enid had thought that it was simply Delia being wilful and contrary. She hadn't really understood that it was Patsy that was drawing her daughter back, not the bright lights of the big city.

That breakdown in trust hadn't truly healed. Delia might mention elements of what she and Patsy got up to, but more often than not, Enid would shut the conversation down, not wanting to be reminded that her daughter was intent on doing things her own way.

Now, when Delia could really do with having an understanding mother, there was an invisible barrier between them, preventing them both from talking about what really mattered.

Enid had offered to come to London for tea, but Delia had found a myriad excuses and barely seen her this year. Enough was enough. Mrs Busby needed to see her daughter to make sure she was alright. Delia had flatly refused to travel to Wales, using work as an excuse. Enid held the suspicion that Delia would simply find it too hard to be surrounded by her family but not with the one person who meant the most to her.

With Christmas looming, Mrs Busby contacted Delia to make arrangements for afternoon tea in December and would not take no for an answer. She was grateful that Delia was at least staying at Nonnatus House where there were sensible people like Sister Julienne and Nurse Crane to keep an eye on her daughter. But she knew Delia. She was too like her father for her own good sometimes. She would put on a happy face and pretend that everything was fine. She would never reveal that she was lonely. She couldn't talk about what was really going on.

Enid might not approve, or really understand her daughter's propensities, but she would not neglect her in her moment of need. Delia's choices meant that she couldn't talk to other people about them, with the exception perhaps of Blod. But Blod had telephoned her and said that she had barely spoken to Delia all year. Enid was worried that Delia was isolating herself completely. It wasn't healthy.

Just a week ago, Delia had rung to let them know that Patsy had returned. But there was a hollowness to Delia's tone. Something had gone on that Enid wasn't privy to. She thought that Delia was going to try and cancel the arrangements. She steeled herself, determined to ensure that they went ahead. But Delia didn't mention the meet up, or give too much detail on how Patsy was. That was worrying in itself for Mrs Busby.

Because Delia didn't mention Patsy, she assumed that the tall midwife would not come. Their meetings were not always successful, and having to endure someone else's family gathering so quickly after losing one's own might well be too painful to bear. However, Mrs Busby arrived in London prepared for all eventualities and she politely kissed Patsy on the cheek before giving Delia a less formal hug and sitting back down.

“Hello, Patsy,” Gerraint greeted, standing on no such ceremony and pulling the willowy woman into an embrace.

Patsy returned the gesture and squeezed the man just a little more tightly than she had in the past.

He broke away the second Patsy indicated she was done and gestured for her to take a seat before enveloping Delia into what could only be described as a bear hug. “I’ve missed you, cariad,” he whispered, ensuring that only she could hear.

Delia held onto her father and tried to absorb the love he so readily radiated. “Missed you too, Dad,” she admitted equally quietly. They too then sat down and Gerraint signalled for the waitress to come over.

“Have you got used to the colder weather?” Enid asked perfunctorily, not wanting to pry too much into Patsy’s travels, but unwilling not to acknowledge it at all.

Patsy grimaced. “Not really. I haven’t had to wear a vest for quite a while so I had to borrow some.”

Enid looked at her sharply, before giving the same stare to Delia. “You’d better be wearing a vest, my girl. You’ll do yourself no good at all if you get a chill on your kidneys.”

Delia stopped herself from rolling her eyes. “I’m fine mam. We have cardys as well as our coats and capes to protect from the cold.”

Enid read straight through the statement. “You haven’t got yours on, have you? Delia, you’ll catch your death in this weather.”

Delia sighed heavily but before she could answer, Patsy spoke up. "Don't worry, Mrs Busby. Now that I've been reacquainted with them, I've realised how snug they are. I shall happily nag Delia on your behalf to make sure she has appropriate protection from the vagaries of the weather."

Enid nodded. "Thank you Patsy."

There was an awkward pause as tea was poured. Patsy fidgeted, knowing that Mr and Mrs Busby just didn't know what to say. She wasn't sure she wanted to talk about it much. But she had seen their worried looks, and realised that they actually wanted to offer some sort of support for her. There was a cruel irony to that. Losing the last vestige of her own family had somehow brought her closer into the Busby family circle.

Gerraint took a sip of his tea and then took a steadying breath. There was no point dancing around the edges to this. "I'm so sorry to hear of your father's death Patsy."

Patsy nodded curtly. "Thank you. It's all been a lot more difficult than I anticipated it would be," she admitted frankly. She calmed slightly when she felt Delia gently stroke the outside of her thigh with her fingers, offering silent comfort.

"I'm not surprised. Losing your family like that. It doesn't matter how expected it is, there's always a sense that you've lost your identity."

Patsy grimaced. "I lost most of my family many years ago, Mr Busby. I was just fortunate I had an opportunity to bridge a chasm before it was too late."   
Patsy looked down at her plate, unwilling to allow the others to try and read her; she was sure her feelings were clearly displayed on her features. "I didn't want to go through the pain of loss again after my mother and sister. I didn't think I had the strength. But to distance myself from that pain meant that I had to distance myself from other feelings. And I've realised in the last few years that opening oneself up to those feelings is actually worth the pain."

She swallowed as her throat tightened and she shot a look at Delia before continuing. "I'm rather grateful that Delia had enough strength for both of us and convinced me that I should reach out or I might regret it forever."

  
Enid took a glance at the tired eyes of her daughter before returning her gaze to the red-haired woman. The separation had clearly been trying for both of them. It surprised Enid that it had been Delia that had convinced Patsy to leave and reach out. She had felt lately that Delia had been pushing her away and was making adjustments to the dynamics of their own relationship. But perversely, the action reassured Enid that Delia placed great weight on the value of family links. Perhaps she could still yet do something to rebuild the trust they had once shared.

Enid could sense that Patsy was already wilting under the personal scrutiny and decided to change the subject. "You'll never guess what they're doing at the village hall for a pantomime this year."

"Does everyone still do that?" Delia asked incredulously, grateful for the distraction but genuinely curious nevertheless.

Mr Busby laughed. "Of course we do," he told her jovially, earning a slight groan from his wife. Delia looked at her parents carefully and narrowed her eyes. "You're in it, aren't you Dad?"

"You're looking at Widow Twanky," Gerraint announced proudly as he reached for another tea-cake.

"There's no need to sound so delighted about it," Enid berated, but there was no sting to her tone.

Delia couldn't help herself. "Aren't you in it Mam?"

Patsy bit down on a snort of laughter.

Enid noticed, but chose to ignore it, noting with a small sense of satisfaction that the haunted look Patsy had been wearing since their arrival seemed to have diminished. "No I am not," she retorted primly.

"But she is doing the costumes," Gerraint interjected gleefully. "It makes a change for her to measure me for a dress, I can tell you."

Both Patsy and Delia laughed out loud at that. Gerraint winked at his wife and then continued, gently mocking her disdain for the production considering that he and their two sons were performing.

The table continued to talk about Christmas plans. Enid couldn't help herself and state that she would miss Delia being there, but when her daughter stiffened, she hastily clarified that she understood that Delia had to work.

Patsy sat and listened to the Busbys converse. She couldn't help but reflect that this would now be something that was denied to her forever, but she could live vicariously through Delia's interactions with her family. Delia had been nothing but solicitous of her feelings, and had told Patsy that she wasn't obliged to join her family for tea if it was going to be too much.

Patsy was thankful that Delia hadn't pushed, but she was also conscious that Delia had been isolated for much of the last year. She was determined to make that up to her. She had sworn that they would do things together. If that meant dealing with Delia's parents together, Patsy would do that.

She frowned as she saw Mrs Busby rummage around her bag and retrieve an immaculately wrapped flat package. The frown deepened as Mrs Busby handed it over her. They had checked before they left and agreed that they would not exchange Christmas presents at this meeting. "What's this?"

"It's just a gesture, Patsy. We didn't know what else we could do. I hope you like it," Enid replied vaguely.

Patsy looked at Delia and saw that she was just as baffled. "May I open it now?" She asked politely. When both Mr and Mrs Busby nodded assent, Patsy ran her finger under one of the folds and opened the parcel carefully. Inside was a silver photo frame, folded in half.

Patsy looked up at the older occupants of the table curiously. "Um, thank you?" She offered cautiously.

"It's more for the photos than the frame," Enid explained. She nodded at Patsy. "I just hope you don't think we've been too presumptuous."

Patsy opened the frame and inhaled sharply. On one side, there was a photo of the Busby clan that had been taken at a Christening. Patsy smiled as she saw that she and Delia had somehow managed to end up standing together. It was the photo on the right hand side that really took Patsy's breath away though. It was the photo Nerys had taken when Patsy had smiled at Delia holding the baby. It was a beautifully natural shot, and Patsy couldn't help but smile again as she saw how they had looked at each other so lovingly.

"We thought you might want a little reminder that you're still part of a family, of sorts," Gerraint said, trying to explain the photos. "And Nerys insisted that you have the other photo, even though I wanted it for our mantelpiece."

Patsy looked up, her eyes glistening. "It's incredibly thoughtful. Thank you so much," she whispered. Patsy already knew where she was going to place the frame. It felt almost liberating that she would be able to display the photos publicly, rather than hide them in her box of precious memories.

Mr Busby took care of the bill before helping his girls with their coats. As they left the tea shop, he took up position next to Patsy so that they could walk down the street together. "We'll walk you back to the bus stop," he explained with a grin.

Patsy nodded, grateful for a few more moments of his company.

Mrs Busby looped her arm through her daughter's and deliberately slowed her pace so that there would be a little distance between them and her husband walking in front. "How are you really, cariad?" She asked softly.

Delia tried desperately not to stiffen, but couldn't help the instinctively defensive posture. "I'm fine thanks, mam. Just tired," she admitted as an afterthought.

Enid pursed her lips but forced herself to take a calming breath and they walked a few steps in silence. "Grief is an unpredictable thing, Delia. It affects people in unexpected ways. The only emotion more unpredictable is love," she commented carefully, keeping her eyes on the road in front. She patted Delia's arm with her loose hand. "But one thing I know for certain is that time is a great healer. Be patient, cariad. Things have a way of returning to normal, even if that normal is a different one to what you're used to." She risked a glance and smiled sadly at Delia as they walked. "I know there's a big distance between us," she continued. "But your Aunt Blod is close. Don't feel like you have to deal with all of this completely on your own."

Delia blinked back tears, knowing that her mother hadn't been referring to the geographical distance between London and Wales. "Thanks mam," she replied, having to force her constricted vocal cords to work. "I'll speak to Auntie Blod," she promised, trying to give her mother some reassurance. She returned a weak smile. "And I will ring you on Christmas Day after rounds. Might as well make use of the telephone now you have it installed."

Enid smiled and nodded gratefully. "You'd better," she warned despite knowing that it was unnecessary. It was quite clear that Delia would call.

Gerraint cleared his throat as he walked alongside Patsy in companionable silence. He could see the bus stop approaching and there was one more thing he wanted to say. "Patsy, I hope you don't think I'm overstepping the mark," he began hesitantly.

Patsy frowned. "About what?" She asked, confused.

Mr Busby inhaled. "I just wanted to let you know..." he broke off, uncertain if he should continue.

Patsy's frown deepened. In all her interactions with Delia's father, she had found him to be confident and assured. For him to hesitate about something felt most peculiar.

"I have rather the reputation for being blunt. I prefer to call it speaking plainly. I am quite happy for others to emulate me," she assured him.

Gerraint nodded. "I just wanted to say that now you've lost your father, if you ever feel the need... I mean, you probably don't. You're a sophisticated woman and I can't help but admire your strength of character."

Patsy's eyebrows rose. It was like listening to Delia chatter nervously, and she found it utterly charming. "Please, just tell me," she prompted, hoping that he would return to the original thread of his conversation.

Gerraint grinned sheepishly, realising he had been rambling. "I just wanted to say, that if you ever need a father's advice, or help, or just someone to be there for you, I'd be honoured if you came to me." He found himself stopping as Patsy halted suddenly. "Oh god, I've been insensitive again, haven't I? I'm so sorry..."

Mr Busby's words were cut off as Patsy flung her arms around him and hugged him tightly. He looked back to see Enid and Delia staring in surprise even as they hurried towards them and he brought his arms up to hug Patsy back.

"Pats, are you alright?" Delia asked in concern, rubbing the taller woman's arm.

Patsy released her grip on Mr Busby and stepped back, blinking tears from her eyes. "I'm getting there Deels. I'm getting there."

 

**Author's Note:**

> The photos Refer back to "A Christening Tea" - an earlier Tea instalment. If you're on Tumblr, check out @tlpursuit's site as she did a drawing depicting Patsy and Delia holding the baby!


End file.
